Clara shook her head and settled back against the squabs with a sigh. “What other stops?”
Honora glared at her. “Do you really think you can attend events with a duke without looking like a duchess?” She shifted, spreading her skirts around her legs, then knocked on the carriage’s roof.
Clara braced herself as the carriage jerked into motion. “Whatever are you talking about?”
Honora gestured up and down at Clara. “All of it. Jewelry, slippers, hair.”
“Hair?”
“Yes. My maid has commandeered Radcliff for some lessons on hair styling. We have appointments at the jeweler’s and cobbler’s this morning, then we will stop at Gunter’s. I sent a note to the jeweler this morning that we will be interested in at least three suites, which can be used with several gowns. I sent him the duke’s colors—”
“How can we pay for all this when I have been allowed only one gown a season?”
Honora’s lips pursed so tightly Clara wondered if it hurt. “We do not discuss such things. That is for the gentlemen to decide. Your father gave me the permission—”
“Is this all based on the duke paying for it after the wedding?”
Honora glared at her.
“Mother—”
“You will not concern yourself—”
“And what if there’s no wedding?”
Honora’s eyes widened, although her mouth remained a thin line. “That is not an option.”
Clara sagged against the seat. “In other words, we cannot afford this and if the duke does not find me worthy, Papa will be in debt up to his eyeballs.”
“He finds you worthy. You should not—” Honora stopped and stiffened, as if gathering herself together. “He will—hewillfind you worthy.”
Clara tried to ignore the despair that clutched at her throat. “He already does, doesn’t he? It’s already decided.”
“He finds you engaging, although I cannot fathom why. But nothing is certain until the marriage contracts are signed.”
“If he already knows, then why all this show? Why not just have the banns read and whisk me off to the far north?”
Honora’s face reddened. “Because he is a proper gentleman, and he will do things as they should be done. So shall you.”
“So he’s going to peacock about town for two months, make a lot of noise in Parliament,thenwhisk me off to the far north.”
“You will keep this lack of respect to yourself when you are in his company.”
“Papa once told me that respect is to be earned.”
“Notif you are a duke. Certain positions are granted respect due to what they are. You would have learned that by now if you did not spend so much time with animals and servants.”
“I prefer their company.”
“Which is why you have the manners of a barn cat.”
“Yes, I believe Papa pointed this out just last night.”
In truth, her father’s words the night before had been far more vulgar and harsh. As an obvious result of his increasing frustration with Clara’s resistance, Jerome Durham’s temper had blasted out of control. In response to her strident pleas for more time and more options, he had lashed out, deriding her for her manners, her behavior, her disobedience, and her defiance. Oh, and her position as a burden on the family. He had even raised his hand to slap her, withholding the blow at the last minute as a fit of coughing overwhelmed him, leaving him wheezing and searching for a handkerchief.
Clara had fled to her bedchamber in tears, only to discover her kitten’s absence. She had followed Radcliff’s instructions about how to traverse the alleyways between the two grand houses in order to take refuge in the Kennet stables, knowing Pockets would have returned to her friend. The encounter with Michael Ashton had been startling, reminding Clara that her reaction to the man had not been isolated—and that the attraction was mutual. His kiss had all but seared her soul.
But it had also eased her mind and engaged her heart with a new emotion: hope.
